


Freedom Held Dear

by GotTheSilver



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Bathroom Sex, First Meetings, Getting Together, M/M, Sexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26361127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: different first meeting while working actors.*Chris gets it. Hates it, but gets it. It’s part of the bargain he made when he signed his soul over to the acting industry; no coming out until he’s got some kind of success, maybe no coming out at all considering how many people assume Chris is really just secretly gay. So Chris gets it, and he’s spent the last year obeying his agent’s words to the letter, even when he’s with friends.None of which explains why he’s got his hand on the hip of some dude at Patrick’s party, smiling at him from under his lashes, with an idea to find a bathroom as soon as possible.
Relationships: Chris Pine/Zachary Quinto
Comments: 10
Kudos: 77





	Freedom Held Dear

**Author's Note:**

> found this from a few years ago, so tidied it up and here it is.

If pushed, Chris would describe himself as a non-practising bisexual. At least relationship wise, ever since freshman year of college when his heart got crushed by Mike, a junior who never told him about the boyfriend he had back home. Since then it’s been women for relationships, and men for anonymous hook-ups at clubs, but even that’s fallen by the wayside since his agent told him in no uncertain terms that he can’t be caught getting his dick sucked in some darkened room now that he’s making his name in tween movies.

Chris gets it. Hates it, but gets it. It’s part of the bargain he made when he signed his soul over to the acting industry; no coming out until he’s got some kind of success, maybe no coming out at all considering how many people assume Chris is really just secretly gay. So Chris gets it, and he’s spent the last year obeying his agent’s words to the letter, even when he’s with friends.

None of which explains why he’s got his hand on the hip of some dude at Patrick’s party, smiling at him from under his lashes, with an idea to find a bathroom as soon as possible.

The fourth glass of Patrick’s death punch probably explains it, though.

Chris can’t remember the dude’s name, one of Patrick’s friends he’s yet to meet properly he thinks—he’s got dark eyes, handsome—but the guy is leaning in and kissing his neck, asking if he wants to go elsewhere and Chris doesn’t give a fuck what his name is just as long as he gets off really goddamn soon.

They reach the bathroom just as someone’s leaving, sniffing conspicuously, and Chris smirks as they go inside, locking the door behind them. He turns around and the guy is right there, pushing him against the locked door, catching his mouth in a desperate kiss. From the way he’s tugging at Chris’ pants with one hand, Chris would guess they’re on the same page, and he goes for the guy’s fly with equal enthusiasm, wanting to let out a yelp of success when he finally gets it undone.

Patrick’s punch has done nothing to dampen either of them, and when Chris gets his hand around the guy’s dick it feels like a goddamn reward for having put this side of him on hold for so long. “Fuck,” he breathes out, whatever else he was going to say getting cut off by the guy nipping at the skin on Chris’ neck, and Chris’ head hits the door with a thunk.

If he was less desperate to get off, Chris would be going for something other than mutual handjobs, but right now just having someone’s hand other than his own around his dick is enough for him, and judging from the way the guy is pushing his hips forward, he feels the same way. It’s slightly awkward, the guy is left handed and their wrists keep bumping together, but neither of them want to slow down.

The alcohol has destroyed any of Chris’ remaining inhibitions, and he’s panting, groaning against the guy’s mouth as he comes harder than he has in a while, having been restricted to just his hand for way too long. He’s not drunk enough to be selfish, and once Chris has his breath back, he uses his own come to jerk off the guy, laughing softly at the involuntary groan that escapes the guy’s mouth once he realises what Chris is doing. “Come on,” Chris says, mouth pressed against hot skin, tongue darting out to taste because he just can’t resist.

Chris will never know if it’s that that triggers the sudden, guttural noise that echoes in the bathroom before the guy comes, his head falling forward onto Chris’ shoulder. “Fuck,” the guy says, his shaky breath hitting Chris’ neck. “That was not what I was expecting from tonight.”

Chris laughs as he lets go of the guy’s dick, looking around for something to wipe his hand on. Spotting a washcloth, Chris sends a silent apology to Patrick as he reaches for it, dislodging the guy from his shoulder. “Sticky,” Chris says by way of explanation when the guy’s dark eyes fix on him in confusion.

“Oh, of course.”

“So what were you expecting tonight if it wasn’t this?”

“A hangover from Patrick’s punch,” the guy says with a slight smile as he looks over Chris. “This was better.”

Chris meets his eyes, returning the smile for a quick moment; there’s something about the look on the guy’s face that makes Chris want more than just a quickie in the bathroom, but he knows that he can’t—. Breaking the gaze, Chris shakes his head and buries the feeling, quickly cleaning himself up with the washcloth before handing it over to the guy. “So, I—” Chris is cut off by a banging on the bathroom door and he sighs, exchanging an amused look with the guy. “I guess we should vacate?”

“Yeah,” the guy says, quickly looking down at himself before looking at Chris and giving him a nod. “I guess we should.”

The woman waiting for the bathroom glares at them both as she shoves past them, and Chris turns, watching the door slam behind her. “What do you want to bet that—” he stops when he realises the guy is no longer near him. “Oh,” he says quietly to himself, blinking hard. It’s not that he—he can’t risk anything with a guy, can’t risk attachment, can’t risk his _career_ , but—Chris shakes it off and spots a friend waving to him across the room. He stops at the punch on his way over, pouring himself a large glass in the hopes it’ll help him forget the sudden empty feeling creeping into his gut.

*

Picking up his takeout cup, Chris flashes a grin at the barista before he turns around; in his months filming in New York, he missed LAMILL like he was missing a limb, and he’s really not ashamed of that. Breathing in the scent of his coffee, Chris looks around and spots Patrick sitting with another guy Chris vaguely recognises but can’t place. It doesn’t hit him until he’s halfway over to them, but by then Patrick has spotted him and, as much as he wants to, Chris can’t turn on his heel and leave.

“Dude, you’re back,” Patrick exclaims, standing up and pulling Chris into a tight hug. “How was New York?”

“Busy,” Chris says, trying not to look at Patrick’s companion. “Weird. It was work, you know how it goes.”

“That I do.” Patrick pauses, looking between Chris and the guy. “Did you two meet at the party?”

“Uh, I don’t—”

“Possibly,” the guy interrupts. “Your punch has blackout tendencies.”

Patrick laughs in delight and waves a hand. “Chris, Zach, Zach, Chris.”

Finally, Chris looks at the guy—Zach, he can remember that—and he pauses with his mouth slightly open because Zach’s lying about not remembering, it’s written all over his face, and Chris doesn’t know what to make of that. “Hi,” he says, eventually. “Sorry for interrupting your lunch.”

“It’s okay,” Zach says, his eyes darting to the side like he’s looking for an escape. “I have to—my dog is going to need walking, I should go.”

“What? No, stay,” Patrick says with a small frown. “You and Chris should get to know each other, you’re both kind of at the same point in your career, Chris tell him what you just did.”

Chris rolls his eyes before taking a gulp of his coffee. “A movie with Lohan,” he says, feeling the flush on his cheeks as he looks at Zach. “It’s not—it’s stupid, really, but it’s work.”

Zach nods in acknowledgement. “I’ve been doing guest spots here and there,” he says, leaning back in his chair and shrugging. “I don’t know, I feel like maybe I should move to New York, try my luck at theatre.”

“And I keep telling him that he’ll get a job soon,” Patrick says. “He has an audition for a network show, and he’s gonna kill it.” Glancing at his watch, Patrick grimaces. “I’ve got to get across town. Zach, buddy, I’m telling you, you’re going to get that job, and if you don’t, we all have couches you can crash on.”

“Noah as well?”

Patrick laughs as he stands up, nodding his head. “Noah as well. Call me.”

Judging by the way his stomach is churning, Chris should’ve grabbed some food when he got his coffee, but it’s too late now. He doesn’t want to bolt away from Zach now that Patrick’s gone because that’ll kill any chance he has of getting to know Zach better, but he doesn’t quite know how to start a conversation with him. “So, Noah?” he asks, taking Patrick’s abandoned seat.

“What?”

“You said you’d need to have Noah crash—”

“My dog,” Zach says, playing with the remnants of his muffin. “He’s great, a complete goofball, but he—he keeps me sane.”

There’s a pause and Chris feels like maybe this is where he should make a graceful exit, that maybe he should’ve done it as soon as Patrick left, but Zach is sitting there with a striped t-shirt, a beanie pulled over hair that looks too long, picking at his muffin, and Chris can’t quite bring himself to get up. “That sounds good,” Chris says, finally. “All I have to keep me sane is, well, coffee helps. Kind of.”

Zach laughs, the corners of his mouth turning up. “Noah and coffee, the only things keeping me sane in LA.”

“That’s all?” Chris doesn’t mean for it to sound suggestive, but by the way his eyes widen, Zach appears to take it like that.

“Uh, are we—” Zach cuts himself off and looks around before meeting Chris’ eyes. “I have to walk Noah, do you—I don’t live far from here—”

“Yeah,” Chris says without thinking, just knowing he doesn’t want to leave Zach’s company just yet. “Take me to meet your dog.”

*

Chris falls in love with Noah in less than a minute; he’s barely through the door of Zach’s apartment before he’s on the floor happily getting his face licked and laughing as Noah tries to stick his tongue in his ear.

“I swear he’s not usually this undignified,” Zach says, picking up Noah’s lead. “Noah, Noah come on, leave Chris alone.”

With one last lick, Noah darts off towards Zach, sitting obediently as Zach attaches the lead. Chris watches from his position on the floor, smiling absently at the way Zach’s hands gently touch Noah’s fur, and he’s hit with a sudden flash of how those hands touched him during the party. Swallowing hard, Chris stands up, willing his dick to chill because that’s not—he didn’t come here for that. He didn’t. “I like him,” he says, gesturing to Noah.

“I think it’s mutual judging by the way he was drooling over you,” Zach says. “You have some in your hair, by the way.”

Chris laughs, feeling a flush flood his cheeks and he reaches up to brush it off. “Normally I like to get to know someone a little better before they drool on me, but he’s cute, he can get away with it.” Zach bites his lip and looks down, obviously stopping himself from saying something he thinks might cross a line, and the awkwardness of it all has Chris shifting from foot to foot. “Is this too weird? I can go if you—”

“Yes,” Zach interrupts. “I mean, yes it’s weird, but no, don’t go. You’ve got Noah’s seal of approval, so there must be something good about you.”

“Aside from jerking you off in a bathroom?”

“Aside from that. Are you—I’m gay, but not—my career is—” Zach shakes his head and raises a hand in apology. “Sorry, I shouldn’t—it’s not my business.”

“You’ve had your hand on my dick,” Chris says with a shrug. “I think you can ask if I’m into dudes. Which I am, sometimes, but if you ask my publicist...” Chris drifts off, a little worried that Zach might judge him for his life choices.

“Not out?”

Chris tugs at the end of his sleeves, suddenly feeling very small under Zach’s gaze. “It’s a long story.”

Zach tugs at Noah’s lead and gestures towards the door with his other hand. “Walk with us,” Zach says, a small smile on his face. “I have time.”

They pick up iced coffees and head around the neighbourhood; the quiet between them should be uncomfortable, Chris hasn’t spent this much time with a dude he’s shared orgasms with since college, but it isn’t, and the prospect of being friends with Zach is terrifying him down to his bones. “I got my heart broken,” he says quietly, once he realises Zach is waiting for him to start the conversation. “In college. The guy I was dating, he had a boyfriend at home he never told me about and I just—” Chris cuts himself off and shrugs. “I guess I never got over it, and since I still liked women as well it was easier to kind of go that way instead.”

“But Patrick’s party—”

“I wasn’t expecting anything to—not that I regret it—” Chris stops in his tracks and rubs his forehead with the back of his hand. “God this is going to sound fucking awful—”

“Say it.”

“Usually if I want something like that, I head to a club. No strings, no attachments, it’s just—”

“Easier,” Zach finishes with an understanding nod. “I get it. I’m not out, publicly, I’m not—I don’t want my career to be based around that, I don’t want to talk about my personal life at all with anyone, really. If I get to the point where people are asking about my personal life, which at this point seems unlikely.”

“Patrick said you had an audition for a network show?” Chris asks, as they start walking again.

“Yeah, yes, but—I dunno, it was meant to be someone older, so unless they see something in me then I’m not going to get it.”

They stop again as Noah investigates a particularly interesting bush, and Chris sticks his hands in his pockets as he looks at Zach. “Not that it means much coming from the co-star of Princess Diaries 2, but I see something in you.”

A light flush skirts over Zach’s cheeks and when he looks up from Noah, there’s a smile on his face that Chris suddenly realises he would do anything to see again. “Really?” Zach asks. “You’re not just—”

“What? Saying it because you made me come at a party? No, I—there’s something about you. You’ll get the part. And hopefully one day I can get out of playing love interests.”

Zach laughs before taking a sip of his iced coffee. “Have you got anything coming up?”

“Uh, yeah, actually. Something that’ll break me out of the teen idol career projection thing. Not that it’s a bad career to have, I guess, but I want more.” Chris huffs out a self deprecating laugh. “If I can get more.”

“You will,” Zach says with an intensity that would put Chris off if it were anyone else. “You could be a teen idol, but you could also be Paul Newman.”

“You’re just saying that because of my eyes,” Chris says, trying to diffuse the mood.

“Nope,” Zach says, going with it and winking at Chris. “Never even noticed them.”

“Liar.”

*

Chris isn’t used to having a friendship with someone he’s hooked up with, but Zach quickly slips into that category, and Chris doesn’t hate it. Zach gets it all, understands what it’s like to have to perform in public, not just acting wise, but to present an image that’s palatable for the careers they both want to have. Time passes, Zach gets the part in Heroes, Chris heads to Nevada to work with Joe Carnahan, and when they’re both in LA, one of them inevitably turns up at the other’s place to hang out. It’s easy, in a way Chris didn’t expect, and the more time he spends with Zach, the more he wishes they could have something different. Something more.

It’s one of those hotter than hell days in LA where Chris doesn’t want to do anything except sit on his couch with the aircon on, trying not to move. He was meant to be going to his parents’ place for dinner, but bailed, unable to face leaving his apartment to go anywhere. He’s managed to bring himself to get another glass of water when he hears a knock at the door, followed by a now familiar whimper.

“Hey,” he says when he opens the door to find Zach and Noah there, the latter looking wilted by the heat, and the former wearing a neon blue tank top and yellow shorts. “Don’t you look stylish.”

“Shut up,” Zach says as he unclips Noah, watching as Noah makes it inside before slumping by Chris’ couch. “You should be glad I put on clothes at all.”

“I honestly don’t even know how to respond to that,” Chris says, stepping back to let Zach in, watching as he kicks off his flip flops as if they’ve deeply offended him. “Feel free to disrobe, though. My place could always do with more naked men in it.” Chris walks through to the kitchen as Zach crouches down, lightly petting Noah. “Sit down, let me get you both a drink.”

“Do you still have—”

“Yes,” Chris interrupts as he gets Noah’s bowl out from under the sink. “Noah’s still got a bowl here.” After filling it, Chris pauses with a hand on a water glass. “Do you want a drink or a _drink_?”

“You got anything good?” Zach asks from over Chris’ shoulder.

Suppressing a shiver at Zach’s breath on his skin, Chris turns around, blinking in surprise when he realises how close Zach still is. “Margaritas?” Chris asks. “I’ve got tequila, probably got everything else.” There’s a line of sweat running down Zach’s throat and Chris shifts where he stands, suddenly very aware of the fact he’s not wearing a shirt, and that if Zach wanted—he cuts off that train of thought and clears his throat. “Or we could just drink the tequila and—” this time he’s cut off by Zach’s mouth on his, and Chris instinctively wraps his arms around Zach, pulling him closer as he opens his mouth, letting Zach in. There’s a rasp of stubble against stubble and all Chris can think is how much he’s missed this, missed Zach, and he knows he’s playing with fire, can’t see how this will do anything but backfire on him, but he just—he _wants_.

“Fuck,” Zach mutters when they part, not letting go of each other, noses still brushing together. “I didn’t mean—you’re just—”

Chris grins, sliding his hands down Zach’s back, slipping under his shorts and finding nothing but skin. “You’re really going commando?”

“It’s hot,” Zach protests. “And you’re walking around shirtless.”

“In my own apartment,” Chris says, snapping the waistband of Zach’s shorts and laughing when Zach yelps. “You’ve been hanging loose in public where anyone could see.”

“Does that make you jealous?” Zach asks quietly, his mouth brushing against Chris’ cheek as he leans in.

“No, I—” Chris is thrown by the comment, wondering what it is Zach wants from him. He closes his eyes as Zach mouths down his neck, as his fingers brush against Chris’ rapidly hardening dick. “Oh _fuck_ , Zach.” He’s about to push Zach’s shorts down and fall to his knees, when Noah lets out a loud whine. Zach tries to keep the mood going, teeth a sharp sting against Chris’ neck, but Chris can’t help the amusement bubbling up in him and pretty soon he’s shaking with laughter, hands clasped firmly on Zach’s waist, stilling him in his movements.

“Goddamnit, Noah,” Zach breathes out, resting his forehead against Chris’ temple before taking a step back and reaching for the forgotten water bowl. “Let me give my asshole dog something to drink, and then—if you still want—”

“Yes,” Chris interrupts, dragging a hand over his hair. “I still want.”

“Good,” Zach says simply, pressing a quick kiss against the corner of Chris’ mouth before he walks over to Noah.

Chris takes a deep breath, turning around and resting his hands on the counter. Even with the aircon blasting, Chris practically feels like he’s melting, and he can’t work out how much of it is because of the weather and how much is because of Zach. He’s still caught up in his head when he feels Zach’s hand on his shoulder. “Hi,” Chris says quietly, turning around. “Noah settled?”

“Yeah.” Zach’s hand trails up Chris’ neck, curling around the back of it, fingers brushing over his hairline as he drags Chris forward and Chris goes willingly, falling into kissing Zach again. It’s softer than before, there’s an edge of want to it, but there’s something more, something that’s creating a ball of fear in Chris’ gut that he wants to push away.

“Bedroom,” Chris mutters against Zach’s mouth as he reaches for Zach’s hand and holds on tight. “Come on, just—I want you.”

Zach’s quiet as Chris leads him to the bedroom, and Chris wonders if he’s scared of breaking whatever the hell it is they’ve got going on here. His bed is a mess, sheets rumpled from a night of restless sleep, and Chris’ cheeks flush. “I know it’s a mess, I didn’t—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Zach says, letting go of Chris’ hand and tugging his tank top over his head. Chris closes the small gap between them and kisses Zach firmly, curling his arms around Zach’s body, hands pressing into the firmness of his back as he pulls him closer. The groan he lets out at the feel of Zach’s dick pressed against his is muffled by Zach’s mouth, and Chris drops his hands, shoving at Zach’s shorts until Zach laughs and takes a step back. “You too,” Zach says, his fingers lightly stroking along Chris’ cheek before he rids himself of his shorts.

Zach doesn’t take his eyes off Chris, watching as Chris pushes his shorts down to the floor and steps out of them. Chris clenches his hands by his side once before letting go, feeling the muggy weight of the atmosphere on his shoulders, and then it’s—Zach’s pressing him against the mattress, mouth sucking a mark against his neck, and all Chris can think is how much he wants this, wants _Zach_.

It seems like Zach’s hands are everywhere, and Chris’ hips jerk up, seeking out friction he so dearly needs. It’s good, but it’s not enough, and Chris knows what he wants, what he’s wanted since Zach walked away from him at Patrick’s party. “Fuck me,” he says against Zach’s mouth. “Please, Zach, I need—”

“Yeah,” Zach interrupts, his eyes dark as he looks Chris over. “Yeah is that—”

“Not a blushing virgin,” Chris says, gesturing to his bedside table, eyes following Zach as Zach shifts in order to reach in and grab supplies. “It’s just been a while since I—”

“Bottomed?”

“Yeah, I—” Chris breaks off and rubs a hand over his face before staring up at the ceiling to avoid Zach’s eyes. “It’s a trust thing, I guess.”

“Hey,” Zach says, fingers pressing against Chris’ bottom lip. “I get it. And you don’t need to explain yourself to me.”

Chris sighs, lips pouting in a ghost of a kiss against Zach’s fingers. “I kind of do,” he says as Zach’s fingers trace a light pattern down his body, and he can’t suppress the shiver that runs down his spine when Zach’s fingers brush over his nipple. “Goddamnit.”

“Interesting,” Zach says with a smirk before he lowers his head, swiping his tongue over Chris’ nipple.

“ _Fuck_ , I don’t know why I’m friends with you,” Chris says, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Seriously will you just—” The rest of his sentence is nothing but a strangled moan as Zach’s fingers press inside him without warning, and Chris wriggles on the bed, trying to shove down on them.

“Patience,” Zach says, slapping Chris lightly on the thigh with his free hand as he opens Chris up slowly. “God, Chris, you look incredible.”

Chris blinks as he looks down his body at Zach’s face, and what he sees there scares him. He doesn’t think anyone has ever looked at him the way Zach is looking at him in this moment, and Chris doesn’t know what to do with that. Licking his lips, Chris nods when Zach raises a questioning eyebrow, holding the condom between two fingers. “Yeah,” Chris says quietly, above the hum of the aircon. “Do it.”

He’s not ready for the sudden feel of Zach’s dick pushing inside him—it punches the breath out of him—but it’s exactly what he needs to stop him thinking about the look on Zach’s face. Closing his eyes, Chris gives himself over to the feeling of being thoroughly fucked and the fullness of Zach making his entire body feel alive in a way that he hasn’t felt in too goddamn long. Chris shifts, trying to get Zach deeper, wanting to feel this for days afterwards because he doesn’t know if he’s going to get this again, doesn’t know if he can risk having this again.

“Chris, come on baby, let me see your eyes,” Zach says softly, his hand grasping for Chris’ and holding on tightly.

Something inside Chris crumbles at the request from Zach, and he can’t not obey. When he opens his eyes, they seek out Zach almost involuntarily, and Chris’ breath catches when he sees the look on Zach’s face. Chris wants to turn away from it, wants to hide from everything he and Zach could be, but he can’t bring himself to do it when Zach’s locking eyes with him. He wraps his hand around his dick, already way too close to shooting off, and when he looks back, Chris doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to remember if it was his own hand or Zach’s eyes that made him come.

Zach’s gasping above him, thrusts getting steadily more erratic, and then his mouth is dropping open in a quiet groan as he comes, and Chris knows, deep in his heart, that he’s never going to be able to do this again. He’s never going to be able to risk falling more in love with Zach.

*

Chris doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he wakes up uncomfortably hot with Zach’s face resting on his chest, Noah on the floor asleep, and the bedroom door open. Despite being sticky and uncomfortable, part of Chris longs to wake up like this every day. Running his fingers through Zach’s hair, Chris stares up at the ceiling, his stomach churning at the thought of having to speak to Zach, of having to—.

He doesn’t want to come out, doesn’t want to tell the world that he’s not 100% straight, doesn’t want everyone to know him for that instead of his work. It’s not like Zach’s out, either, but Chris can’t help the feeling in his gut that tells him this has changed something, that Zach’s going to want more, and Chris is terrified of what happens when he admits he can’t give that something more to Zach.

“Your heart’s beating really fast,” Zach mumbles against Chris’ chest, startling Chris.

“Sorry.”

“S’okay,” Zach says, mouth dragging over Chris’ skin before he lifts his head, chin resting just under Chris’ collarbone. “You good?”

“I don’t know,” Chris says softly, his hand in Zach’s hair stilling.

Zach’s quiet, and Chris doesn’t say anything to break the silence, knowing that if he does, he’ll be saying the wrong thing and this moment will end.

“Do you regret this?” Zach finally asks, his body tensing like he’s ready to jump off Chris and run out of the apartment. “Chris, I didn’t—”

“No,” Chris says, hand moving and pressing against the back of Zach’s neck. “I don’t regret it, I’m just—” he breaks off and sighs. “Confused, I guess.”

“About what?”

“I generally don’t have sex with my friends.”

Zach hums thoughtfully and moves off Chris to sit cross legged, giving Chris an eyeful of his dick that has Chris’ mouth going dry. When he looks up at Zach’s face, Chris sees a raised eyebrow and he flushes before he waves his hand at Zach’s dick, laughing when Zach tugs a pillow over his crotch. “Wouldn’t want to distract you,” Zach says with a quick and genuine smile. “I... I make a lot of bad choices—”

“Thanks.”

Smacking Chris on the chest with the back of his hand, Zach rolls his eyes. “Not everything is about you, Christopher. Look, I hooked up with you in the bathroom of a party and then vanished on you because I thought you were too attractive to be interested in me when you were sober.” Chris’ eyes widen and he opens his mouth to respond, but Zach reaches over and presses a finger against his lips. “Nuh uh,” Zach says. “I’ve worked on myself, I’m _still_ working on myself, and I don’t need your reassurance.” Zach pauses, tilting his head consideringly. “At the moment.”

“Okay,” Chris says as Zach’s finger falls away. “I won’t say anything about how even through Patrick’s death punch I thought you were really fucking hot, or how I wouldn’t have risked hooking up with someone at a party where I knew almost everyone if I didn’t think you were hot.”

“Thank you for not saying anything,” Zach says, the corners of his mouth turning up in a small smile as he places his hands on the pillow. “Chris, do you even know how much it took to kiss you today?”

Chris takes a moment and shifts into a sitting position, his legs stretched out in front of him. Brow furrowed, he watches as Zach’s hands twist together, his body showing more stress than his words do, and that’s all it takes for Chris to lean in and press his mouth against Zach’s lips. Zach takes a moment to respond, and Chris is almost about to pull away, but then Zach’s hand is resting on Chris’ thigh as he kisses Chris back. Neither of them make a move to deepen the kiss, and Chris suddenly realises how content he is to have Zach like this, in this moment. Breaking the kiss, Chris doesn’t move away from Zach, just rests their foreheads together and closes his eyes.

“What was that?” Zach asks quietly.

“I wanted to,” Chris says, opening his eyes and looking at Zach. “I don’t _do_ this, Zach. You know I don’t, that I haven’t since college.” He leans back and shrugs. “I have zero experience even being with a guy more than once as an adult and you—you’re a really good friend. I don’t want to lose that.”

“Okay,” Zach says slowly. “But who says you will?”

“I—” Chris pauses, leaning back from Zach and shaking his head. “What are you saying?”

“Chris, you know I don’t do this either,” Zach says, his hand still on Chris’ thigh, fingers rubbing against Chris’ skin. “And I don’t want to lose you, you know I don’t, but this—it doesn’t have to be anything other than what it is.”

“Zach—”

“That sounds really bad,” Zach says quickly. “I didn’t mean—it would be _something_ , but I can’t—and you aren’t out, so—”

“I get it,” Chris interrupts. “I get that we wouldn’t be going out on dates, or walking red carpets together, I know what you’re saying.” He shifts, inadvertently dislodging Zach’s hand from his thigh, and shakes his head. “Zach, I—” Chris pauses, letting out a sigh. “I’m not good at relationships.”

“Neither am I, but you—I want to try this. With you.”

“And if we go down in flames?”

“Dramatic much, Pine?” Zach says, letting out a small laugh. “If you tell me you don’t want to do this, then we can forget the last few hours ever happened and go back to being friends.”

“I do want this,” Chris says quietly, the air around them feeling thick. Truth is, he knows why he’s holding back when he woke up wanting to wake up with Zach every day. He’s scared. If they do this and it gets out, then—. His career is important, but Zach—Chris can see a time when Zach becomes more important to him than his career, and that’s _terrifying_.

“Chris?”

“Yeah,” Chris says, jerked from his thoughts by Zach’s voice. “I don’t know what to say,” he says slowly. “But I know I want this, so we should, uh. Do it. However we can make it work.”

“No more freaking out?”

“You know I can’t guarantee that,” Chris grins. “And your life would be so much less interesting without my freakouts.”

“I’m regretting everything,” Zach says. “I take it back.”

“No, you don’t.”

Zach sighs, a fond look on his face. “No, I don’t.”

Somehow, that’s the best thing Chris has ever heard Zach say.


End file.
